


Whumptober 2019 07 - Isolation

by frankie_mcstein



Series: Whumptober 2019 [7]
Category: Magnum P.I. (TV 2018)
Genre: Gen, Higgins will tear the world apart, Whumptober 2019, don't stand in Higgy's way, even walls can't keep these idiots apart, he was just cannon fodder, if it makes her, poor Magnum, some random dude dies, when Higgy says search she means it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-07
Updated: 2019-10-07
Packaged: 2020-11-26 17:57:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20934359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frankie_mcstein/pseuds/frankie_mcstein
Summary: Whumptober 2019 prompt 7- Isolation"Okay, Jules,” Rick said, spreading his hands. “Tell us where to look.”“Look in front of you, brother,” Magnum pleaded, his voice sounding hoarse and weak to his ears, tight with pain and thick with exhaustion.  But all three of them started walking out of the office instead.





	Whumptober 2019 07 - Isolation

**Author's Note:**

> When I first saw this prompt I couldn't think what to do. And then I sat down to work on it and this happened.

Magnum glanced again at the rapidly cooling body sprawled out in front of him. The blood from the young man was pooled around the legs of the chair Magnum was tied to but, thanks to the angle of the body, the bullet wound was out of sight. He didn't waste his energy pretending the blood wasn't blood, or that it hadn't come from the teenager's head, or that it wasn't his fault. He'd screwed up somehow, blown his investigation, and Bradley, confused, scared, 18-year-old Bradley, had paid the price.

Magnum winced as he shifted his weight and bent a little too far forward. His right leg was still numb, and now the burning pain was back in his chest. Awesome. He took as deep and steady a breath as he could under the circumstances and fought down the urge to cough, telling himself it was nothing to do with the pain, that he needed to stay quiet so he could keep listening for... well, anything really.

He wasn’t sure how long it had been since since he'd been dragged into this tiny hidden room with its soundproof walls and two-way mirror, with a microphone hidden on one side and a speaker on the other. He’d been knocked out by a blow to the back of the head and woke up tied to the metal chair that was bolted to the floor. He'd been told by a smirking Gates that "your cover's been compromised, Mr. Magnum." And Gates had really seemed to enjoy hammering that message home. After Gates was done beating him for the first time, three other members of the gang had stepped in. Magnum had worked with them all over the last few days and, from the looks on their faces, they were taking his having lied to them very personally.

Within minutes Magnum had been dazed and bleeding, the three men were raining down on him, struggling to catch his breath after a series of vicious blows to his stomach. But then one of them lashed out with his fist and caught him on the right temple. His vision swam for a breath or two and, just as it cleared, a second punch landed. Magnum had made the decision to let his consciousness run off for a while.

When he'd woken up, Gates had been looming over him with a wire in each hand. The interrogation had been pretty pathetic by Magnum's standards but, even so, it had certainly done some damage. It was made infinitely harder to deal with by Gates making sure he couldn't even black out; he had his men break capsules of smelling salts under Magnum's nose every time.

And then the others had walked out; Magnum must have missed a signal from Gates. His vision had been blurry, and it was a struggle to focus. Gates hadn't said anything, just stood smirking as Magnum tried to catch his breath. As the door opened again and the three men walked back in, dragging Bradley with them, Magnum had known immediately what was going to happen.

"You two have been talking a lot these last few days," Gates said to the teen. "Are you friends?" His tone had been so soft and calm that Magnum had nearly shuddered to hear it. He could see the confusion and fear in Bradley’s eyes, had tried to call out, but a sweaty hand was clamped over his mouth. As Bradley's lips were still forming the word "yes," Gates shot him.

Magnum's eyes fixed themselves on the crumpled body. He hadn't liked Gates much back when he'd thought the worst thing about him was his serial philandering. Then he had found what he'd thought was evidence the guy was running an underground casino and had liked him even less. Finding out he was actually running guns had, in Magnum's mind, cemented Gates' position as scum of the earth. Watching him murder a young man in cold blood had Magnum thinking the words "sub-human."

The four of them, Gates and his merry trio of goons, had started back in on their interrogation. Magnum was pretty sure at least a few of his ribs had been broken by the time he'd managed to spin a convincingly simple-sounding pack of lies and wouldn’t have been surprised to find he was bleeding internally.

He had the idiots believing he was an undercover HPD officer though. They had left him tied up, gone charging off half-cocked. Judging by the appearance of a massive amount of police officers a while later, Magnum was pretty sure Gates and his crew had somehow managed to promptly get themselves arrested. He had tried yelling, but no one had reacted, not even when he called out while an officer was standing right in front of the two-way mirror.

The soundproofing Gates had been so proud of had been worth the money; no one had reacted or shown the slightest sign of considering the existence of a hidden door. Magnum had watched as the number of people in the office, and he was guessing, the building, had dwindled. At one point, he'd spotted Higgins walking past the door to the office and had started yelling again, somehow hoping she would hear him when no one else had. It had been a stupid idea, but he still felt disappointed when she didn't even pause before continuing on down the corridor.

After hours of sitting in silence, Magnum was beyond bored and running out of ways to distract himself from the pain he was in. He amused himself by trying to track where Katsumoto would be in his investigation into the disappearance of his favorite P.I. He knew there was plenty of evidence linking Gates to the guns and wondered if the guy might try to negotiate for a plea deal, using Magnum's location as leverage.

'If Gates comes back here, I'm going to tell him I'm British secret service,' he decided, trying to distract himself from the throbbing in his chest and the dry burning in his throat, both of which were getting stronger as more time passed. The smell rising from Bradley's body took care of the hunger pains.

He was so focused on not focusing on his definitely cracked, possibly broken ribs, that he didn't actually notice the way his head was dropping toward his chest or the gray tint to his vision until a noise made him jerk his head up. The sudden movement had big black spots spinning in front of him, and he didn't see his friends through the two-way mirror. He was too busy being unconscious.

\---

"I'm just saying, if I was making a living running guns, I wouldn't be keeping people prisoner in the office building I was using as a front." 

"And I'm just saying that illegal arms dealers are arrogant. They always imagine their cover stories to be unassailable. Mr. Gates may well have believed this building to be the ideal place to hold someone captive simply because it would never occur to him to think of anyone ever connecting it to him."

T.C. looked between Rick and Higgins as they continued to argue. They’d been having the same conversation for a while now, ever since Katsumoto had called from the docks to say Gates had been lying about Magnum’s whereabouts.

“Guys?” They both turned to look at T.C. “What are we thinking we might find that the search team Katsumoto had here didn’t?” He kept the quizzical look on his face as they turned to look at each other.

Rick opened his mouth a few times, as if struggling for an answer, before shrugging. “I’m sorry, Jules. I just don’t get it.”

The two men watched as Higgins turned away from them with a heavy sigh. They followed her reflection in the mirror, seeing the worry and exhaustion chase each other across her face.

“Something,” she said finally, after a pause that dragged out for far too long. “We know Magnum was here, and there was no sign of him leaving or being taken away on any of the cameras HPD managed to find in the area. There’s a clue somewhere. And this building’s the only place it could be.” There was a vulnerable note in her voice and an oddly forlorn look on her face that neither man had seen before.

Magnum, having been pulled back to consciousness by his friends' voices and watching through the mirror, recognized them both. She’d had that same look, that same unsettling tone of voice, when they had been stranded on that tiny little atoll and she had brought up the need to build a fire. His stomach had twisted then too, although he’d hidden it with a sarcastic line that time. This time he couldn’t comfort her, or help her. He could just sit and watch while she struggled for a second to get herself back under control before turning away from him and back to the other two men.

“There’s something here that can tell us where he is. I just know it.” Magnum watched as Rick and T.C. exchanged a look, one he recognized as meaning they agreed with what they were hearing. Then they both nodded.

“Okay, Jules,” Rick said, spreading his hands. “Tell us where to look.”

“Look in front of you, brother,” Magnum pleaded, his voice sounding hoarse and weak to his ears, tight with pain and thick with exhaustion. But all three of them started walking out of the office instead, and Magnum was alone again. He thought he heard Higgins say something about taking one room at a time. At five stories, there were a fair number of rooms. That meant his friends would be in the building for a while.

Spurred on by the thought, Magnum tried tugging at his ropes again. His wrists had been bleeding, and he deliberately rubbed the bloody skin against the ropes, having some vague idea that maybe he could use the blood as a lubricant somehow, slip a hand free. That was all he needed. Just one hand to slip free. Just one tiny piece of good luck. The pain in his wrists brought tears to his eyes, but he kept going, kept twisting as far as he could, pulling as hard as he could. The muscles in his arms and shoulders were burning and cramping, and he stopped, finally, panting and nearly sobbing once or twice at the sheer agony, white-hot tendrils running up and down his arms.

Higgins walking back in was just the distraction he needed. The two-way mirror gave him a view of nearly all the office, and he stared fixedly at her, watching as she stood in the doorway, surveying the room as if it had personally offended her somehow. He saw the way she took a deep, deep breath before stepping into the office. And then watched, impressed and a little scared, as she took the room apart.

She started on the desk, opening every drawer, removing it, checking the underside. Then she pushed and prodded every section of the drawers and the desk that seemed thicker than a single plank, clearly checking for hidden panels. As soon as she was done with the drawers, she carried them out to the corridor and Magnum couldn’t figure out why until she walked back in and tipped the desk over. To Magnum’s surprise, she kicked all four legs until they snapped off the main body of the desk and checked each one for hollow spots before taking them out to the corridor too. The noise echoed through the floor.

She turned her attention to the chair, not seeming to notice that Rick and T.C. had left whatever rooms they were meant to be searching, doubtless attracted by the banging, and were standing in the doorway with wide eyes. The wheels were the first thing Higgins looked at, tipping the chair and checking the base before grasping each castor and pulling until they popped out. Once all five had been checked and discarded, she moved up to the seat cushion, pulling out a pocketknife and slicing around the stitching. Then the back support cushion was removed. Then the two skinny bits of foam on the arm rests. Then she folded the blade, popped out the screwdriver, and started dismantling the frame of the chair.

Magnum looked away from Higgins, feeling a little overwhelmed by the intense look on her face, in time to see his friends exchange a look of shock. He saw T.C. mouth “wow!” and Rick’s exaggerated nod of agreement. Apparently being a spy taught you all sorts of interesting things about how to conduct a search. All three looked back to Higgins to see her pull the chair’s hydraulic system apart. Rick and T.C. crept away again, clearly having a fresh perspective on how to ‘properly’ search a room, and Magnum kept on watching Higgins, fascinated.

Once the totally dismantled chair had been carried out to join the various table parts, she started taking the pictures off the walls. Each frame was carefully opened, the backing paper and picture removed and photographed from various angles before being placed carefully to one side. Then the frame was broken into four pieces and each piece studied for any possible place where something could be hidden. Then the pieces were taken to the corridor.

Magnum found himself grinning as he watched Higgins conduct the most carefully organized example of ‘destruction of property’ he had ever witnessed. She settled herself down in front of a low filing cabinet, and he found himself glancing to the clock on the wall, timing how long it took her to go through each shelf. Then remove each shelf. Then remove the doors. Then the feet. He was starting to feel like there was no way this room could ever escape her attention. He’d thought it was so small before, but now he felt like it was a massive, gaping void. If there was so much as a strand of his hair anywhere in the building, he thought she would find it and somehow use it to deduce his current location.

He was well aware of the fact that his thoughts were straying a little further away from reality than he would like. But he had just spent the last forty minutes watching Higgins pry the chair rail away from the walls and inspect every square inch for hiding places. His reality was a determined ex-spy looking for him or something to lead her to him while he sat in a soundproofed room, feeling his eyes slowly growing heavier and heavier and not knowing if it was from lack of sleep, dehydration, or some sort of dire internal injury.

He was vaguely aware of Higgins doing something in the corner of the office and forced his eyes to focus for long enough to see her tugging hard at something. He frowned as she fell, trying to stand to go to her and see if she was okay, and wondering why he couldn’t move for a split second. The confusion was worrying and he felt himself wake up a little. And realized Higgins was now ripping up the carpet.

Well that was comforting. If she actually was planning on taking every room apart so thoroughly, and he was sure she was, then surely it was only a matter of time before she got as far as she could with only a pocketknife and went looking for something bigger. Like a sledgehammer.

And with that thought, he felt himself drift away.

\---

Rick was saying something. Magnum wanted to ask him to be quiet. His head was spinning and throbbing, his chest was aching, his arms and legs felt weak even though he wasn’t even trying to move them. The last thing he wanted was to be woken up. Although… there was something. Something important that he couldn’t bring to mind. Something about… Higgins? Was she doing some DIY?

His eyes blinked open as his memory suddenly got the memo and kicked back in. He was trapped. But they were looking for him. And, for some reason he couldn’t quite remember, he was sure they would find him. He just wasn’t sure how long it would take, how long he had left.

A knocking noise distracted him from his maudlin thoughts, his natural curiosity about  _ everything _ dragging his attention back to whatever his friends were doing now.

“Nothing this side!”

And Magnum realized Higgins was knocking on the wall. He tipped his head to the side and narrowed his eyes as he tried to figure out what she was doing. Knocking again. Rick calling again.

“Still nothing, Jules.”

Magnum wondered how long they’d been at it, how Higgins had managed to convince Rick and T.C. that whatever she was doing was essential rather than desperation. And then she knocked on the door to the room.

His entire body froze. Would she hear the difference? Would she be able to tell it was hollow? Or would the soundproofing make it sound solid to her? He wanted to hold his breath but found himself panting instead.

“Higgy?” Rick sounded confused. “Is that it?”

“I’m nowhere near done, Rick. Why do you ask?”

“You stopped knocking.”

Magnum couldn’t see Higgins’ face, but he heard the tremor in her voice as she yelled, “No! No I didn’t!” and she started banging on the door. Not gentle tapping like before but solid blows that echoed even with the padding on the walls.

Magnum watched with barely open eyes as Rick and T.C. came running into the office and they joined Higgins at the wall, leaving his line of sight.

“There has to be a catch or a trigger mechanism somewhere,” Higgins was saying, and the banging and tapping was going on and on.

Magnum was starting to feel like the sounds were bouncing around in his skull. He wanted to tell them to lay off, but his throat was sore and dry and he couldn’t find his voice.

There was pain somewhere, somehow nowhere and everywhere and, for a second, he was worried his friends wouldn’t be in time after all. And then a crashing sound tore through the air, and the shock made his eyes fly open, his head jerk upright. He had a full second to appreciate the sight of Higgins, holding a table leg and framed by the shattered mirror before she gasped, dropped the leg, and pulled herself into the room.

She didn’t seem bothered by the blood, the dead body, the smell; she moved to Magnum’s side and started talking quietly to him. The gentle hand she laid on his face felt so nice that he barely even noticed her slicing through the ropes that were holding him to the chair. He sagged slightly, only to be caught by a pressure against his shoulders.

‘T.C.’ he thought, but it felt fuzzy. It didn’t matter, he decided. Higgins had found him, just like he’d known she would. She really was very good at the whole ‘investigation’ part of their jobs. He made a slightly vague mental note to tell her that when he woke up- ‘Higgy works good’ was how it actually ran- and let himself sink down into the cool darkness that had been waiting for him for so long, safe in the knowledge that his family had him.

**Author's Note:**

> Things just keep getting better and better for these poor folks.


End file.
